


for just a little bump in the road

by Heather



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Denial, Huddling For Warmth, Implied Capwolf, M/M, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-22
Updated: 2020-08-22
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:47:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25944598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Heather/pseuds/Heather
Summary: Steve fell asleep on Bucky in moving vehicles. He always had. On subways, trains, in the backs of cars. Once even on the plane from one mission to another, when the flight had been long enough.So the fact that Steve had his face in Bucky's shoulder as they rode in the back of a truck to their next base camp didn't strike Bucky as all that unusual.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 5
Kudos: 49
Collections: CAILURE EXCHANGE 2020





	for just a little bump in the road

**Author's Note:**

> FOR #9
> 
> I HEARD YOU LIKE SUPERNATURAL CREATURE AUS! :D? LOL THIS PROBABLY ONLY BARELY COUNTS AS ONE OF THEM. /o\ &NAPRICOT FOR THE HANDHOLDING AND THE BETA.

Bucky hated the serum sometimes.

Not the part of it where Steve's life expectancy had jumped up a whole bunch, he appreciated that. And while it had taken getting used to, he had learned to live with Steve suddenly being a beefcake who was twice his previous size.

But the solo missions weren't great. Especially not when Bucky could tell they must have gone pear-shaped, even though no one was talking about it. Most especially not when Steve came back hiding injuries and no one was talking about that, either.

They couldn't have been that bad, Bucky thought, because Steve had already been fine like two days later. But Steve was wearing the damn Cap suit full-time right now, something he never did when he had a choice in the matter, and someone had found some Steve-sized recon fatigues in the hospital tent trash, shredded to pieces and stiff with blood, and Bucky was having a hard time getting that thought out of his head.

So he didn't know much about why they were being moved now, just that HYDRA had tracked down some legendary something-or-other in Lozère that, surprise, was reputed to be magical and very dangerous, and they of course had to stop it. But he did have a feeling that it had to do with however Steve was hurt the other night.

So he wasn't exactly complaining about the fact that Steve was huddling into him, sleepy and shivering, while they rode to the south of France in the middle of the night in the back of a truck.

Though Bucky had to wonder if this was also part of the serum. Not the huddling; Steve fell asleep on Bucky in moving vehicles. He always had. On subways, trains, in the backs of cars. Once even on the plane from one mission to another, when the flight had been long enough. So the fact that Steve had his face in Bucky's shoulder as they rocked down the road didn't strike Bucky as all that unusual. The fact that he wasn't snoring, on the other hand, really did.

Steve could be a tactile guy, never one to shy away from an arm slung around his shoulders, comfortable with friendly shoulder punches, reunion hugs, being squeezed together in tight spaces when there wasn't enough room in a bed or a backseat, and even with a spot of wrestling, as long as his asthma didn't act up. But Steve wasn't too big on just cuddling for no reason. Not back home, and certainly not in tense combat-adjacent situations where they and the guys were hurtling through the night hoping not to be found by Nazis. 

Bucky just hoped it was extraordinary exhaustion plus residual serum weirdness, and not the recent injuries that he couldn't actually prove Steve had.

"You good, buddy?" he asked, trying to be casual, nudging Steve a little with the shoulder he was nestled in.

"Mhm." The noise was either sleepy or noncommittal, Bucky couldn't tell.

Steve lifted his face from Bucky's shoulder and pressed it into his neck instead, his breath hot and a little wet against his skin.

Bucky laughed and tried to adjust them so it'd be easier to talk. The best he could manage was getting his chin on top of Steve's head while Steve stayed buried in his throat, now _nuzzling_ along with the hot wet breaths. "Getting a little personal, Steve."

Steve, it seemed, was too tired to care. "Cold," was the only thing he offered by way of explanation.

That was weird, too, because post-serum Steve always ran hot, exuding heat like a furnace and always glistening with just a touch of dewy sweat, like he'd been oiled for a picture in a magazine. 

This tipped Bucky over a little more towards the "he's hurt" side of the equation and suddenly he was grateful for the dark of the truck. He couldn't make out the others and they couldn't make him out either. The only way any of them were going to pick up on Steve being a bit closer than friends should be was if Bucky kept trying to talk to him about it.

Bucky decided to chance wrapping an arm around him. 

It was a lucky thing they'd been friends practically since they were in diapers and knew each other well enough to know neither meant anything by it, because Barely Conscious Steve took that as an invitation to glom onto him: turning so his face was really in Bucky's throat, so his leg was thrown over Bucky's lap, so he had one arm on either side of him. Not embracing, but still in a position where Bucky was pretty undeniably in Steve's arms.

And Steve was still rubbing his face in Bucky's throat, like he was trying to rub some of his body heat into his skin. 

Bucky had no idea how Steve could possibly still be cold like this. Bucky had never felt warmer in all his life. There was so little air and space between them and so much heat. Bucky thought he could feel Steve's heart beating against his chest. He thought Steve could probably feel his, too.

It had been long- _too_ long- since Bucky had had another body on his like this and it was taking every ounce of willpower he had to muscle his cock into staying down. Awkward hard-ons happened- especially when one inconsiderate sleeping person all but drooled on another person's Goddamn neck when that one hadn't had any action in upwards of a year- but Bucky was not willing to have one happen now. Sure, Steve knew that biology happened, but Bucky really didn't think he could get on with his life as usual if biology happened with Steve.

He decided he didn't want to examine that thought too closely.

Steve lifted one of his hands and pressed it to Bucky's chest- and okay, Bucky had to admit it was pretty fucking cold. He put both of his hands on top of it, trying not to think too hard about the fact that he was essentially clutching Steve's hand to his bosom. He hoped Steve didn't read too much into the now-wild pounding of his heart.

Steve's head finally rose out of Bucky's neck- making it a lot less hot and a lot easier to breathe- but didn't go far. He could feel Steve's nose in his hair, could hear him taking loud, deep sniffs.

Showering wasn't something they were able to do too regularly, and Bucky might've felt more self-conscious about that if it were anyone other than Steve doing this. If Steve wanted to judge, he could go warm himself up on some other guy's body and sniff his hair.

It was hard to tell if Steve was judging or not, since Steve made no move to pull away but also made a groaning sound that bordered on a growl.

Bucky nudged him away from his hair and Steve responded by leaning his face against Bucky's, almost close enough to kiss. 

It was a bit dizzying, having Steve right there, breathing hot against his face like a hungry animal, so fucking close that Bucky felt it when Steve licked his own lip.

So fucking close that their mouths crashed together- just a little, just for a second- when the truck hit a bump in the road.

It hurt. Jesus, it hurt, and the only thing that kept Bucky from crying out a whole string of expletives was the awkwardness of having to explain how the hell he had just managed to cut _his_ lip on _Steve's_ teeth. He could feel his lip swelling like a balloon and he tasted a good mouthful of blood.

Steve wasn't making any noise, either, so Bucky reached up and felt for his lips in the dark. It took a couple tries- he found Steve's nose and jaw first- but then there they were. He drew a shaky breath and rubbed his thumb across Steve's lip. A little swelling, no cut. Wet with what smelled like blood on Bucky's fingers, but without any kind of injury that matched. 

It was his blood on Steve's lips.

His finger was still there when Steve darted his tongue out- slow, noiseless, make sure no one could hear- and licked the blood away.

He wanted to whisper something like _Gross, Rogers,_ but his heart wasn't really in it, even if he could have explained it to any of the guys if they overheard.

The taste of blood seemed to wake Steve up, though. Awkwardly, he shuffled out of Bucky's lap and scooted a respectful distance away.

There was little he could do and even less he could say, but Bucky reached blindly for Steve in the dark anyway. It was a dumb accident that didn't mean anything and they both knew it. Steve didn't need to go back to shivering in the dark.

Before he could try to figure out how to communicate this- _how, Bucky? in a series of improvised hand signs spelling it out against Steve's palms, perhaps?_ \- the truck drew off to the side of the road and parked with a kind of loud, squeaking grind that almost sounded like the truck had run out of breath. A moment later, the door to the truck bed opened, bathing them in the light of a waxing moon, a fingernail away from full, and Phillips was calling to them. "All right, you worthless lumps of soap scum! Hurry the damn hell up and get the damn hell out! Move!" 

Everybody else scattered, but not Steve. He was still tired enough to take his time, idle bordering on leisurely. It almost seemed spiteful. 

Bucky remembered, against his will, his earlier theories about Steve liking getting punched. 

For some reason, though, Phillips did not start screaming his head off the way he might have a week ago. He was watching Steve with a disapproving purse to his lips, but said nothing. It was kind of spooky, to be honest. Phillips was never more than thirty seconds away from going on a tear and it was Bucky's understanding that he had never liked Steve all that much. 

But at the mouth of the truck bed, Steve kind of paused and gave him a look, something slow and measured and almost daring him to say anything.

Phillips looked back at that gaze and held it. But he didn't say or do anything else.

Steve hopped down and headed in the same woodsy direction as the rest of the guys, who had already managed to disappear up trees, under bushes, and God knew where else to camouflage themselves and their sleeping bags while they slept.

Bucky could almost feel Phillips staring him down with something like abject hatred and decided that beating it as fast as possible was the better part of valor. 

Steve was holding onto a tree branch above his head to stretch his back out, eyes closed tight, clearly still trying to wake his brain all the way up. There was a part of Bucky that wanted to try and address their recent body heat sharing run amok- the part of him that was left with a fat lip that he was going to have to explain to the other guys, mainly- but most of him didn't want anything to do with it. Fat lip or not, there were just some conversations a friendship couldn't survive, and _You know, I didn't hate your teeth hitting my lip as much as I would've thought I would_ was one of them. The joking _Hey, you missed a spot_ that had been running through his mind since Steve had licked off his blood didn't even merit consideration.

Steve glanced at Bucky over his shoulder and Bucky would have sworn to God and in a court of law that Steve looked like he knew every single thing he was thinking. 

Bucky's heart and thoughts both started racing, trying to think of something, anything, that could explain why he was looking the way he did and why he was still thinking about an accidental collision of lips and teeth, something that would never have happened if they hadn't hit a damn bump in the road--

\--and Steve just gave him a weary, sleepy look, with eyes that seemed alien and familiar at once, and damn, the moonlight must have been playing merry hell with his vision, because he knew damn well that Steve's eyes were blue, but they sure looked green--

\--and he just shoved Bucky to the ground at the foot of the tree and fucking _spooned_ him.

Spooned him and within thirty hot, awkward seconds, fell fast asleep.

 _Fuck,_ Bucky thought, and he couldn't even pin down why- the strange cast to Steve's eyes or the strange comfort of being in Steve's arms. _I am in very serious trouble._

If it was something other than really just being that tired, Steve didn't seem to be troubled by it. His heart beat against Bucky's back like the solid foundation of the world and the warm breath on his neck felt like nothing but peace.


End file.
